The Rocky Path
by roodwook
Summary: Slow build Drarry. Rewrite of old fic. Harry met Draco on the train and followed him into Slytherin, and 5 years on, their friendship isn't as easy as it used to be. Stresses are piling on the both of them, but Harry is convinced they'll make it through. They always do, after all. Rating may change.


AN: This is a rewrite of an older fic. I wasn't happy with how fast I raced into the plot, so I'm rewriting it so it's longer and slower and hopefully better. If you enjoy it, please let me know, since the last upload of this fic didn't get very good reception. I also just appreciate the feedback to help me improve my writing, which has hopefully got better in the year I've been away. On with the fic and hopefully you enjoy!

Harry woke up and rubbed his eyes. Stupid Hogwarts and stupid early mornings. The light from the lake streamed through the dormitory, dancing on the walls, but it was too dim to actually wake him up; it still looked like evening time to his brain. Still peering blearily through his glasses a few seconds later, he stumbled to the bathroom to get a shower before anyone else woke up. Perhaps he wouldn't be too sleep deprived if he just got up later, but then he'd have to brave his housemates, and a lot of them didn't like him that much, unsurprisingly. It made him lonely at times, but he had bigger issues than a lack of friends. He had Draco, after all.

He passed Draco, coming out of the shower, fresh eyed, his hair tussled and wet, wrapped in his towel (green and silver, bought by his father). "Hey," Harry said, his voice still scratchy from sleep, hoping he could hop in the shower before anyone else got up.

"Morning," Draco replied, heading over to the mirrors over the sinks to put his usual gel in his hair and wipe down his face. He always looked so awake in the morning, and Harry envied him for that. He always felt like death in the mornings, but when it got to night time, he had trouble sleeping; he just tossed in his bed, listening to the loud snoring of Crabbe and Goyle. At times, he'd been kept awake by other sorts of sounds – Crabbe and Goyle had a lot of difficulty with silencing charms. It seemed unfair that Draco could just sleep right through it.

The showers were thankfully empty, and Harry stripped quickly and stepped under the spray of water. The showers were blissfully hot. Harry basked in the spray, feeling warmth replace the chill that living at the bottom of the castle always seeped into his bones. He was about five minutes into wasting hot water when he realised he'd forgotten his shower gel.

"Draco!" He yelled, praying he was still outside. "Can I borrow your shower gel?"

He waited a few seconds, and then Draco's head poked around the curtain. "Do you need shampoo as well?"

"Draco!" Harry protested, yanking the shower curtain around his lower half. "I'm naked!"

"I've seen it all before, Harry," Draco said with a wink. "We've been best friends for, what?"

"5 years," Harry said, taking the shampoo and shower gel from Draco's hands and beginning to work the shampoo into his hair. It smelt of flowers – Harry highly doubted this particular item had been bought by his father. "Draco, you should get manlier shower stuff."

"The guys in our year all smell gross with all their Lynx and shit," Draco said obstinately, not budging from his spot outside Harry's shower. "Everyone smells the same, too. There's no individuality."

"Okay Draco," Harry said, a hint of impatience in his voice, "But get the hell out of my shower."

Draco obliged, with a huff, and Harry soaped himself over, thinking. It had been 5 whole years. Draco and Harry had been best friends since they'd met on the train, to the surprise and sometimes indignation to all the people around him. People tended to object to Harry being in the same house as Lord Voldemort had been. But to Harry, that didn't matter. He'd asked to be put in Slytherin back when he was a first year, not knowing or caring about what the houses meant; he just wanted to be in the same house with the first friend he'd ever made. Even now, he didn't care about what Slytherin stood for – it was just a house, after all. It was just a shame that everyone else seemed to think Harry and Draco's friendship was doomed to fail. And it hurt Harry that maybe that was true.

They weren't children anymore. They weren't first years marvelling at the feasts and moving staircases and fake doors. They were sixteen, less than a year from being of age, and Draco was sneaking off somewhere. Harry had sometimes checked on the Marauders map to find him (two red-headed twins he didn't know had given it to him, telling him that they wanted to leave it to someone and they figured the Chosen One was the best person to pick) only to fail to spot him. Harry knew what this meant - Draco was frequenting the room of requirement, instead of hanging out with him as they always had done. Harry was keeping a secret from him too - what was going on in his and Dumbledore's lessons, and also the crippling loneliness he felt, now Draco was spending lunchtimes and evenings without him and chatting to the other people in Slytherin. Harry was still his best friend, sure, but Harry had nobody else to talk to except him, since the Slytherins all had families that disapproved of the 'Golden Boy' and the other houses were disappointed in him being in the house that he should, by all rights, have detested. Sometimes Harry laid awake at night, staring at Draco's back, hearing the gentle sounds of his breathing, and wondering how long it would be before he lost him completely. Whether they were still as compatible as they had been all those years ago.

He wrapped his towel around him, regretting the loss of the hot water, stepped out of the shower and bumped into Blaise, one of the few people who talked to him, albeit in passing. "Sorry," he muttered, heading towards the changing rooms.

"You alright?" Blaise asked, his face looking perfect, as usual. Blaise's beautiful, clean cut features must look particularly gorgeous next to Harry and his messy hair and nondescript face. Harry didn't really care; it was just a thought that struck him in that moment.

"Yeah, I'm good, you?" Harry answered mechanically, noticing that the flowery smell coming off of him was very obvious and making a face.

Blaise laughed. "Good smells going on there, Potter."

"It's Draco's," Harry told him. "I ran out."

"Ask me next time, then," Blaise said, with a humorous note to his voice.

"Thanks," Harry said, "that would help a lot. I get enough jokes aimed at me without going around smelling like a Mother's Day bouquet."

"Yeah," Blaise said, and then the brief conversation was over. Harry headed to the changing rooms to quickly dry off before the mass of Slytherins also woke up and had a shower. Harry rarely saw Crabbe and Goyle shower, to be fair, which explained why going near them was extremely unpleasant.

He shoved on his school robes haphazardly and grabbed his stuff, going down to breakfast, where Draco was already there sitting alone, nursing a cup of black coffee. Harry flopped next to him and began filling his plate.

Draco wrinkled his nose. "I don't understand how you can eat such a big breakfast."

"With ease," Harry replied, piling pancakes on his plate and covering them with golden syrup and banana. "It's such good food, Draco. Eat it. You know, you could do with putting some flesh on your bones."

"Shut up," Draco smiled, elbowing Harry lightly in the ribs. "I'm happy with me."

"Good," Harry said, taking a massive bite, "Self esteem is important. But I still don't know how you're managing to get adequate nutrition."

Harry wasn't happy, though. Draco had black lurking under the skin under his eyes, unusually pale skin, even for him, and a skinny frame he hid under his robes. Draco was under stress - Harry just wished he knew why. He knew it must be something to do with his disappearances, but he didn't really want to broach the subject. Their friendship was shaky as it was.

"What have you got first?" Draco asked, delicately spreading margarine on one slice of toast. Harry stared at this meagre breakfast disapprovingly, but Draco just smiled at him and waited patiently for an answer.

"Double herbology," Harry said, sighing, "with the Hufflepuffs."

"What you moaning about? The Hufflepuffs are alright, compared to the other two."

"They are," Harry admitted, "It's just they're all full of lovely, fair people that believe in giving everyone chances. It's nice, but I don't have the patience to be a Hufflepuff. I can't stand it."

Draco laughed. "A true Slytherin. Too shifty for any of the Hufflepuff 'honesty' shit."

Harry paused awkwardly. "Yeah. What have you got first today?"

"Astronomy," Draco said, picking at the toast.

"I'm literally amazed you have the patience for that."

Draco grinned. "Well, I thought I'd pack in all the NEWTS I could. Never know what the future holds."

"Yeah," Harry said softly, staring into Draco's mercury eyes for a second, then looking down at his breakfast, embarassed. "You don't. Never know. I could end up like Snape."

Draco sniggered. "That would be hilarious. He's so slimy. And you hate each other, anyway."

"Don't say that around any of the Slytherins," Harry warned. "They'll rip your entrails out."

"Good point," Draco said, "But as you know, I'm a dab hand at transfiguration. I could just make some more."

"I know. It's annoying how good you are." Just then, Pansy slid along the bench to be next to Draco, effectively ending their conversation. She acted as if Harry wasn't there, as most of them did. "Draco, darling. How are you?"

"Bitch," Harry thought, staring moodily at the bench. "Trying to steal him."

A voice in his head rationally told him that Draco wasn't his to steal.

"See you later," he said, heading off to Herbology. It was way too early, but he wasn't in the mood to listen to Pansy trying to seduce his best friends. Not that he ever was.

"Harry," Professor Sprout greeted him, not surprised he was here so early, as it had been a common occurrence lately. "You can give me a hand here if you like. I'm just feeding the Venemous Tentaculas. You can grab a pair of gloves to help me if you wish."

Harry took a pair of dragonhide gloves and was soon grabbing chizpurfles and chucking them at the Tentaculas. It was quite a fun and calming activity, because the plants would grab their food in the air, which made it sort of like a game of basketball.

"How have you been, Harry?" Professor Sprout asked, without taking her eyes off of the three plants she was feeding at once. It was quite an impressive feat.

Harry considered. "Have you ever seen students that you've thought have been sorted into the wrong house?"

Professor Sprout thought. "No. I've seen a lot of students struggle in their house. But that's not because their house is wrong, it's just the culture of houses, which I'm afraid can be quite toxic." She paused. "I suppose, in a way, I'm proud of my house, though I think every teacher is. They're very tolerant to everyone. They have their faults, obviously, but it's a nice atmosphere, being a Hufflepuff. I sort of grew into loving it."

"I wish I was in Hufflepuff," Harry muttered, chucking a chizpurfle particularly hard. The Tentacular made an impressive lunge and caught it, but gave him what looked like a plant equivalent of a reproachful look. "It sounds nice."

Professor Sprout looked at him with her piercing green eyes - similar to Harry's. "Slytherin is difficult, sometimes, but you are Harry Potter. You're bound to have a difficult time, wherever you are. You just need to remember, Harry, you are one of the most clever, cheeky, resourceful students I have ever met, and you've pulled a fair few stunts in the past. You have a lot of qualities that put you in Slytherin - resourcefulness, ambition, determination, cleverness - but no Slytherin is the same, because these things don't define you. You are something completely of yourself."

Harry went red. "Thanks," he said, very, very quietly.

"Besides," She continued, "I hear talk that you and Draco adore each other, and he comes from a pureblood family, one of the oldest and most - cultured - families you could get. And both of you deserve to be in Slytherin just as much, no matter what anyone says."

"Draco keeps sneaking off somewhere," Harry blurted out suddenly, aware he sounded childish, "and I don't know why."

Professor Sprout laughed. "Draco must be very sly, if you don't know where he's going. I remember another Hufflepuff student and I used to sneak around, but every Hufflepuff knew. We pretended they didn't, until someone snitched on us. The head of house put a stop to it, of course. Much different times then." She looked back, and when Harry did the same, he saw people had begun to enter the greenhouse, chatting lazily. "Well. Thank you very much for your help, Harry, and I hope I've been a bit of help too. I'm always here if you need a pair of ears to listen to you. I hear you and Professor Snape don't particularly get on."

Harry nodded, took off his gloves, and then joined the rest of his class, feeling thoroughly confused. Was Professor Sprout right? Did Draco have a girlfriend? He resolved to check the map for Pansy the next time he saw Draco sneak off.

"Now," Professor Sprout boomed, business like once again. "You will notice we have been handling particularly dangerous plants this year. Does everybody have their copy of Flesh Eating Plant Life with them?"

The class nodded.

"Now, this is not technically a tree, but it mimics a tree to give an illusion of safety. The dangerous shrub it turns into, however, can be immobilised, and then turned back into its tree form, of which the sap is very important. If you could open your books to page 183..."

Harry thought to himself how not in the mood he was.

After double Herbology, Charms, and Transfiguration (learning a particularly difficult method including drawing in midair), Draco disappeared again, so Harry grabbed some food and sneaked it into the library, thinking it would be good to work on his ever-growing pile of homework. He had always relied on Draco to help finish his essays, but he supposed he could give DADA a shot – it was, after all, his best subject.

He was struggling on a question for DADA (Explain how to deflect spells cast which produce the physical Dark arts, and how they differ from deflecting curses) when he heard a girl's voice next to him.

"Can I sit here?"

He looked up to see Hermione Granger, someone who was known for having an intellect that vastly passed his, looking at him expectantly.

"Of course," Harry stammered in surprise, clearing off his general shit off the table and knocking over his ink in the process. "Oh - shit - I'm rubbish at household spells -"

"Redire," Hermione said, pointed her wand at the ink, which obediently raced back into the jar. "They really should teach them in lessons, shouldn't they? It seems like a flaw in our education. I'm Hermione, by the way. Hermione Granger."

"I know," Harry said. He didn't bother introducing himself. It wasn't necessary.

"I thought I'd come up to the library to finish my homework. You know that essay on Glamours?"

"Yes," Harry said, "I'll get to doing that. At some point." He stared despairingly at his massive pile of work neatly placed at the end of the desk.

"What are you doing now?"

"The Defence question. The one about physical arts."

"Oh," Hermione said, "I've done that one. Found everything I needed in this book. Hang on - I have it somewhere -" She rummaged in her bag, which seemed to be full to breaking point. "I'm really glad you reminded me, I meant to turn it in, but you're welcome to borrow it. The textbooks are rather useless, aren't they? I think teachers want us to research - but honestly, we have enough on our plates with NEWTS and all the extracurricular activities we need to do. And it would be so much easier if we had computers - I had to do a scanning spell to find this, but of course, I had to manually research to find that first."

Her chattiness reminded Harry of when he first met Draco, and he felt an unpleasant twist in his gut.

"I sometimes wish I was doing A levels," Harry said.

"Oh but of course," Hermione said earnestly, "A levels would be so much more boring. "Transfiguration in particular in particular is so interesting, and Arithmancy is very challenging."

"Draco loves Transfiguration," Harry said without thinking.

Hermione laughed. "I know. He beats all of you. Sorry."

"It's okay," Harry said, "I'm failing a bit at time management. Draco's taking more NEWTs than me and managing to go to the Room of Requirement all the time and I'm overloaded with homework and all of the lower years are pestering me for more Quidditch practice."

"Is that why the Room of Requirement blocked me the other day?" Hermione said, shocked.

Harry shrugged. "What did you need it for?"

Hermione blushed. "It's kind of stupid. I just need it to get away sometimes. Sometimes the dormitory gets full up of people having sleepovers and I need somewhere to escape to."

Harry looked at her questioningly, wondering why she didn't just join in. She seemed to misinterpret his look.

"Do you guys have not sleepovers?"

"No," Harry said, "But sometimes guys bring girls in to fuck them, so you just put some charms around your bed and try to avoid being traumatised."

Hermione smiled. "Only known each other for five minutes, and we're being vaguely inappropriate."

"Sorry."

"That's okay. It's nice to have company in the library. I spend a fair bit of time here. Probably why I get through all my homework." She smiled.

Harry thought of something to say. He found nothing, so he blurted out, "Why are you talking to me? You're a Gryffindor. Your house hates me."

"I'm not just you," Hermione said. "People say I should be in Ravenclaw. That I'm not a good Gryffindor. Just goes to show."

Harry didn't have time to ask what it showed, because she waved her wand which puffed and then the time came out in smoke.

"It's time to leave."

"See you later?" Harry asked.

She beamed at him. "Sounds great."

After the final two lessons, Harry was busy out on the Quidditch pitch, bellowing orders at his team. They were feeling decidedly uncooperative as the weather got chilly, despite a few of them previously badgering Harry for more sessions.

Draco, as keeper, was not getting too much action down at the end of the pitch as a result.

"Stop! STOP!" Harry yelled. Draco was there the fastest, lightly speeding through the air and stopping very, very close to Harry, giving him a wink.

Harry grinned at him as the rest of the team arrived.

"Right," He said, slightly exasperated. "I know you can all fly better than this. I want the beaters to only bat to themselves, alright? Practice with each other. I want the chasers to play piggy in the middle." It turned out from the resulting stares that piggy in the middle was a strictly muggle game. The pure-blood Slytherins were looking at him like he was mad.

"Two of the chasers will throw the ball to each other, from FAR AWAY, and the other one will try and intercept it. If the chaser catches the ball, the person that threw it then becomes the interceptor -"

"I know it," Blaise said.

Harry threw him a half-joking glare. "You could have said that earlier."

"It was quite fun watching you explain," Blaise replied.

"Okay, well, anyway," Harry tried to recollect his thoughts, "I'll practice with Draco."

"Gay," one of the beaters coughed very quietly.

Draco gave him a withering look that would have turned most people's insides into ice.

"Stop wasting time," Harry ordered. "Go!"

The rest of the team flew off rather unenthusiastically, and Harry sighed defeatedly. "Come on then, Draco. Let's go."

"How are you going to practice your skills?" Draco asked.

Harry thought. "We'll spend half the time on you, me trying to score goals, and half the time on a snitch showdown."

Draco's face broke into a grin. "Okay. I'll give you a ride for your money. The Weaslette is actually quite good, so you need to practice."

They were on the pitch longer than anyone else, and trooped off to the showers feeling decidedly windswept, but invigorated. Draco had been great as a keeper, as always, and Harry had – thankfully for his pride – managed to catch the snitch before him.

"Shower time," Draco said, "You stink."

"You do too," Harry retorted. "But the Quidditch showers don't have stalls."

"Come on." Draco whined, pulling on his sleeve, "It's fine. I've seen you naked before. Loads of times."

"Yeah, you're always barging in on me. I don't really want to see you naked, though," Harry said. "Sorry to break your heart, Draco, but I'm not that way inclined."

Draco elbowed him in the ribs, winding Harry. "All the more reason it doesn't matter, then. If we're not attracted to each other why does it matter?"

Harry sighed. "Fine. Just this once, because you smell like you've been bathing in sweat, and if I smell the same, I don't really want to walk the walk of shame through the common room. I get enough strange looks as it is."

"That's my boy," Draco said, and promptly began stripping.

Harry averted his eyes and followed his suit, albeit with a lot more reserve. "Your lack of shame is amazing."

"Well," Draco said, smiling cheekily as they stepped into the warmth of the showers, "You just have to stop giving a flying fuck, Harry. It's a good lesson in life."

"Draco Malfoy," Harry declared theatrically, "The new prophet."

"I've got plenty more proverbs where that came from." Draco stretched and yawned. "I'm knackered."

"Did you know that knackered refers specifically to sex?"

"You're joking," Draco laughed.

"It's true."

"Well," Draco said, a light glint in his eyes, "How do you know I'm not knackered by sex?" Harry also laughed, but with horror, realised that talking about sex in a hot, soapy shower was beginning to have effects that he did not want, because they might look distinctively gay. And that was not something Harry really wanted to give off to his best friend, understandably.

He willed his body into submission.

"I know you're not properly knackered," Harry said, "Because we're both virgins."

"Maybe I'm just really good at hiding it," Draco replied offhandedly, stepping out of the shower and beginning to dry up.

Harry frowned. Draco had a point. He also sounded entirely too serious for Harry's liking.

"Well," he countered, "You're not that good. I have noticed when you've left, you know."

Was Harry imagining it, or did a shadow pass over Draco's face before it smoothed out?

"Well, obviously you've got me there, super sleuth," Draco said. "Come on, Harry. You've wasted enough hot water."

"It's called a thorough wash, Draco."

"You'll wash the human off you in a minute," Draco said. "Come on. Let's go."

Harry sighed and stepped out of the hot shower and joined Draco in the comparably icy cold of the changing room. "Can you help me finish my Transfiguration essay?"

For a moment, Draco looked hesitant, but then his face returned to his usual easy smirk. "When you say finish, do you mean 'write the entire thing because you haven't started yet'?"

"I started," Harry said sheepishly. "You're just so much better than me at everything to do with Transfiguration, Draco. It's unfair."

"I won't be there to help you in your NEWTs," Draco said sternly. Harry stared at him, gobsmacked, before Draco grinned. "I'm just kidding, Harry. You can cheat off me if you want. It's what Slytherins do best."

They started to meander down to the school next to the lake, looking at the unappealing murky waters. Harry started to shiver and pulled his robes around him tighter, but Draco flung his arms out and inhaled the air like it was a summers day.

"Draco," Harry said, "What the hell are you doing?"

"It's a beautiful day, Harry," Draco said, grabbing one of his arms and forcing it away from his body. "Smell the fresh air. We came here five years ago. Isn't life wonderful?"

Harry raised his eyebrows. He just didn't understand Draco sometimes, but there'd been moments like this since the first time they met. Still, though, he did what he said – embraced the cold fresh air, the happy feeling of being with his best friend alone and joking around like they had no cares in the world, and the warmth of Draco's hand looped around his wrist.


End file.
